Western Kansas world. [volume] (WaKeeney, Kan.) 1885-current, 1887-08-20

then, O how the faces of my loved and
long-lost dead came back to me! You
shall know my story, if I have life
enough left to tell it. I was of the
Quaker faith. and when the Revolu-
tionary War broke out I was happily
living with my wife and children near
the Connecticut River. One of those
children was little girl, like yours,
madam; the other was boy. just like
you, John, the same face, the same
eyes, the same everything. The spirit
of rebellion was at fever-heat: eyery-
body around us was talking of arming
and fighting, and I and mine were
Stunned and almost nsulted, because
my religion forbade me from taking
arms. I heard of the beautiful Wyo-
ming Valley in Pennsylvania, which
Connecticut people had settled, and
thought it 80 far off that the war could
not reach it. There I went with nv
family, and again we had a happy
home. In June, 177S, the bloodthirsty
Tories and Indians burst into the
valley. ALI unconscious of danger. we
sat at our table at noon, when a dozen
rifles were discharged through the
windows. My wife and little girl fell
dead, and 1 was sorely wounded. The
room was filled with painted savages;
my poor boy ran to me for protection,
arms, with his white, scared face
imploring mercy. Johnny, your
own face had look like
that the day I caught you on
the green! ] was left for dead, and
barely managed to crawl out of the
blazing house when the murderers had
gone. [ lay for weeks at deaths door,
cared for by some of our wretched
neighbors who had escaped the massa-
ere. My strength came back Slowly
but I was changed man. All I cared
for on earth had been taken from me
by the most cruel of deaths. I became
a misanthrope, wandering over the
country, anxious for death, but always
fated to live on in misery Then I
came here. This is my story"
He paused, exhausted; but little of
the cordial revived him again.
"Poor stricken soul" said my mother,
softly. your burden has indeed been
a grievous one. But were there no
promises from above to sustain and
succor you?"
His glazing eye turned quickly toward
her. $50 it should have been," he
whispered. II see with a clearer Wis
ion in this hour. I should have said
with Job, "the Lord gave and the Lord
hath taken away; blessed be the name
of the Lord" Perhaps He will forgive
my weakness, for He knows how have
suffered"
"Shall ask Him ?" said my mother.
The recluse was too far gone to
speak; but he slightly moved his head.
Ny mother knelt by the bedside. I
lad heard her pray often before: but
never, think, from her or any other
have 1 heard so fervent a supplication
as that which she offered up fol-. this
Door buffeted soul.
When the prayer was finished we
were alone with the dead.
Two days later the remains of Cld
Crotty were laid at rest. Neither til,
paper that he had given my mother,
nor anything that was found in the
cabin d;;s-closed his true name. l have
sometimes thought that he had forgot
ten 1t, with much else of his painful
life.
But Che paper contained something
O. considerable Importance to us. It
stated that the recluse had no kin
and owed nothing, and that
he wished John Bender and his mother
to have what he left, which would be
found in an old pocket book under his
pillow. The money, to our surprise,
counted up nearly $500. It was great
help to US; and none of the village peo-
pie, when they heard the whole story
as it is given here, were disposed to
at our good fortune. On the
contrary, there were many who began
to wish that they had treated the old
recluse with more kindness.